


Some Kind Of Miracle

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: 006: Ours<br/>Warnings: Angst<br/>Summary: Seven years is a long time, and just at the last moment, Ron isn't sure whether it has been long enough...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Some Kind of Miracle

  
“What on earth are you doing?”  
  
Ron turned at the question, reaching up to scrub a hand through his hair.  
  
“It's the middle of the night.”  
“I know that, I couldn't sleep. Too excited.”  
“About what?” Severus asked incredulously.   
“Are you serious?” Ron stared at him. “We're moving tomorrow. It's the first house I've ever owned... and it's ours. Together. Me and you. After everything that we've been through, isn't that some kind of miracle?”  
“Perhaps. But while you are excited, all I can think about is an excess of boxes and dust and finding a place for everything.”  
  
Ron opened his mouth to retort but quickly closed it again. He didn't fancy a full blown fight merely hours before they were meant to move in with one another. It had been a long time coming. Seven years, in fact. Seven years before he had managed to get the man to agree to such a blatant display of emotion, to publicly commit to him.  
  
He would be a liar if he said that in those seven years he hadn't questioned Severus' feelings towards him, considering his lack of willingness to agree to anything more than a dinner out on a Saturday night.  
  
“Don't pull that face,” Severus said sharply.  
“What face?” Ron asked.  
“That face you pull when you're questioning whether I care for you or not.”  
“I'm not,” Ron lied, turning to face the window.   
  
There was a sigh from behind him and Ron heard footsteps before a light touch landed on his shoulder.  
  
“I've told you before. I am... very different, to others. Just because I haven't felt able to hold your hand in public, or make the step of moving in with you before now, it doesn't mean that I haven't felt for you every day since you pushed your way into my life, Ron.”  
“Yeah.” Ron _had_ heard it all before.  
“Please, don't be this way tonight.”  
“The thing is,” Ron went on, unable to help from saying it, “You never really tell me why you're different, just that you are. It's kind of hard to swallow.”  
“I would have thought it would be obvious.”  
  
Ron turned to face him. “Well I'm good at missing what's right beneath my nose, so, help me, why don't you?”  
“I gave my all to a redhead once,” Severus said, without batting an eye. “And I got my heart broken in return. Everyone knows what I felt, what I went through, and how it ended. Did you not think that, on the cusp of a new relationship and new experiences after so many years, I might be wary? That I might want to move slowly? That you might have had to earn my trust?”  
“You don't trust me?”   
“You're not listening,” Severus said harshly. “I do trust you. But I needed to be sure.”  
“And what about me, eh?” Ron laughed. “What about me sitting here wondering if I was going to find myself out on my arse? Ever thought about what that's done to my trust for you?”  
  
“You trust me.” Ron knew that Severus meant to sound confident, but the tremor in his tone gave him away.  
“I thought I did,” he muttered finally, and made to step around the tall, thin man in front of him.  
  
Severus grabbed his shoulder and pulled him; Ron fell sideways into his embrace. Thin arms locked tightly around the base of his spine, and yanked him forward until they were lip to lip.  
  
“Don't do this tonight,” Severus begged. “We both know how we feel about one another. We both know that this is the right time to make this move. Please, don't ruin it, Ron.”  
  
Ron didn't have the opportunity to answer through Severus' kiss, but eventually, when the lips pulled away for air, he had to speak.  
  
“I don't want to ruin it. I just want to know that I'm going to be safe with you.”  
  
He didn't need to explain what he meant. Severus nodded.   
  
“Safe,” he whispered in reply.


	2. Stand Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 076: Bed  
> Warnings: Angst, language  
> Summary: It's war, involving a bed, some old Quidditch Annuals, and a very dead rat...

“Rrrrraaarrrgh you bastard!” Ron grunted, throwing all his weight behind his shoulder as he attempted to shove the bed to the other side of the room.  
  
His feet slipped on the floorboards and Ron huffed, pushing harder.  
  
“Are you trying to do yourself a damage?”  
  
Slipping with surprise at the voice, Ron landed on the floor with a thump. “Fuck!”  
“Language,” Severus chided, coming to a halt on the threshold. “Anyway, what are you doing? I thought we'd decided that the bed was going to go there?”  
“No.” Ron heaved himself up onto his feet and brushed off his hands. “You decided that. I want it over the other side.”  
“Why?”  
“So that it's facing the sun.”  
“I'd rather you didn't.”  
“Well I'd rather I did.”  
  
With that, Ron threw himself back into shifting the bed, and only acknowledged that Severus was still behind him when there was a deep cough.  
  
“Why don't you stop watching me and help me?” Ron asked, standing up straight and dragging his forearm over his brow to take the sweat off. “Be bloody useful for a change.”  
“What?” Severus asked tersely.  
“You heard.” Ron couldn't help sounding irritable, but it felt like he had done the brunt of all the heavy work during their move, and it was late in the day and he was tired.  
  
“I refuse to help move a bed which I don't want moved,” Severus informed him. “I'll go and put my time to good use unpacking your multitude of Quidditch annuals to go on the fire.”  
“You dare!” Ron cried. “Touch my shit and I'll chuck away all those creepy dead things you insisted on bringing!”  
  
It was escalating, and there was nothing that either of them could do to stop it.  
  
“Why do you want the bloody bed on the other side of the room so we can be blinded in the morning by the sun as it comes up?” Severus gestured to the massive window which the bed would face.  
“I like rising with the sun,” Ron said defensively. “It's... nice.”  
“Nice? You would describe having your corneas burned as _nice_?”  
“Oh, shut up Dracula.”  
“You don't even know who Dracula is,” Severus retorted.  
“I bloody do -Muggle vampire. So there.”  
  
Ron sat down on the end of the bed and folded his arms over his chest.  
  
“Why didn't you ask me before you moved it?” Severus asked.  
“I didn't think I had to!” Ron exclaimed. “It's just a bloomin' bed, Severus.”  
“Quite.” One dark eyebrow rose and Severus stared.  
“Fuck off.” Ron rolled his eyes. “I'm moving the bed.”  
“Well then might I suggest you use your brains, if they're not too occupied down there in your testicles, and use your wand, perhaps?”  
“Are you calling me thick?”  
“If the wand works,” Severus muttered, before turning on his heel and striding from the bedroom.  
  
Unable to help himself, Ron ran after him and hung over the banister as Severus made his way downstairs.  
  
“Well at least I'm not an insufferable twat.”  
“Rather late to decide you've made the wrong decision, don't you think? And after that guilt trip you gave _me_ last night. Such a gentleman.”  
“Fuck you!” Ron roared after him, not particularly sure where his venom was coming from.  
  
He could only assume that it was because he was tired, and they had been going all day long, and it seemed that they had got nowhere.  
  
“Not with that attitude you won't,” Severus shot back.  
  
Seconds later the living room door slammed hard, shaking the walls, and Ron groaned even though there was nobody to hear. Just as he had drawn breath to consider what he should do, the door flew open again and Severus stormed into the hallway, carrying a box. It looked suspiciously like Ron's carefully collected Quidditch annuals.  
  
“Whoa, what the fuck d'you think you're doing?!” Ron bellowed, throwing himself down the stairs three at a time and letting out a little yelp as he tripped off the bottom step. “Fuck!”  
  
Hobbling, he followed Severus out through their kitchen -spaciously large- and into their back garden with it's pretty view of the nearby sea.   
  
“Give me my box!” Ron shouted at his back, but Severus kept on moving. “If you dare-”  
  
He was left dumbfounded as Severus knocked the lid off the bin and up-ended the box over it, and the glossy magazines and books fell with a thump. Dust rose around them.  
  
“Oh my God,” Ron breathed. “I can't believe you actually did that, you fucking _wanker!_ ”  
  
Severus dropped the box on the floor by his feet and stared at Ron.  
  
“Oh, so that's how you want to do things, is it?” Ron shouted, not caring that his voice was carrying over the fences to their neighbours. “Fine! Two can play at this game.”  
  
He turned and flounced over the grass, breaking into a run.  
  
“Ron-”  
  
He streaked through the house, throwing open the door to the small cellar that accompanied the building, and where Severus' boxes were waiting to be unpacked. He thrust his hand into the first one and got lucky, closing his fingers around a cold glass jar and pulling it out. He shuddered, it was a pickled rat which had always freaked him out -not that he had ever spent much time in Severus' private potions lab.  
  
He heard thundering footsteps and smirked.  
  
“Okay, just put the jar down,” Severus said slowly, bringing up his hand in Ron's direction. “Ron.”  
“You dumped my stuff in the bin, stuff that's important to me.”  
“And what makes you think that dead rat is important to me?”  
“The fact that you've still got it and the date says 1981! This poor bastard is only a year younger than me!” Ron shook it slightly.  
“Be careful with him!” Severus burst out, face flooding with colour.  
“Him?” Ron asked scathingly.  
“Ron, please, just put it back in the box and let's go upstairs and spend some time at opposite ends of the house.”  
“Will you get my annuals out of the bin?” Ron asked testily, still holding the jar with its preserved inhabitant aloft.  
  
The fact that Severus laughed caused red mist to descend in front of Ron's eyes. He tossed the jar in the air and didn't put his hand out to catch it. Too late he thought about the dead rat which would presently splatter all over his new trainers.  
  
However, the jar did not shatter, and the rat remained safe, because quick magic on Severus' behalf saved them both. It was sent back into its box, the lid of which sealed shut with magic.  
  
“I can't believe you did that,” Severus breathed.   
“Look, I-”  
“GET OUT!”  
“W-What?”  
“How dare you treat my possessions with such blatant disregard?”  
  
Ron was up the stairs to meet him before he had really considered just what his feet were doing, and they were chest to chest.  
  
“And what you did to mine?”  
“It's not the same.”  
“It bloody is!”  
“I request that you leave.”  
“This is my house too!”  
“NOT ANY MORE!”  
  


* * *

  
  
Ron felt like he'd been wrung from the inside out. He was tired, the dawn was breaking beyond the living room window, and he had no idea what on earth to say or do.  
  
They had spent the entire evening, night and early morning arguing. Every last vice, every last niggle was thrown into the ring and for every comment he could make, it seemed Severus could make two. He was sat curled up on the sofa, his bare feet beneath him, with one hand wrapped around his toes. Severus was on the two-seater beneath the window, his arm resting on the back as he stared with dead eyes out at the fields in front of the house. His long legs were outstretched over the cushions, with his feet tucked down the edge.  
  
Ron wondered if, like him, Severus had a sore throat. He doubted that the man's ankle was throbbing like his was, considering the tumble he'd taken off the step at the beginning of their argument. It was swollen but he was ignoring it in favour of remaining quiet, trying not to break first.  
  
A yawn caught his attention and he saw Severus' dark eyes shuttering away. His eyelids did not rise again. Ron watched, fascinated as ever, at the way the man's face began to slacken as he dozed.  
  
“Stop staring at me,” Severus growled.   
“Sorry,” Ron muttered, glancing at the clock. “Fuck, it's five in the morning.”  
“It's amazing... how much two people who love one another can find to argue about, to pretend they hate one another...” Severus slowly opened his eyes and looked in Ron's direction.  
  
Mouth dry, Ron wondered what he should say. “I'm sorry I ruined moving day,” he finally said, his tone miserable. “I didn't mean to. I just... really wanted the bed on that side.”  
“I'll move it with magic later.”  
“But I thought-”  
“Ron, we have just spent over twelve hours arguing. I've had enough. Have the bed where you want it. Tomorrow I will be purchasing some blackout curtains.”  
“Fair play,” Ron mumbled, looking down at his own knees.  
“And I'd just like to say that for the record, I don't think that you are bad in bed,” Severus said stiffly, as he pushed himself equally as stiffly off the sofa. “I was in a temper and I apologise.”  
“What about all the other stuff?” Ron asked awkwardly.  
“Well, you are a terrible cook. That, I meant.”  
  
Ron grabbed the hand that Severus extended to him and allowed himself to be pulled to standing. He cuddled close to the man he had spent the night fighting and inhaled from his throat.  
  
“I didn't mean to call you a grumpy old tosser,” he murmured, glad that his face was hidden. “Or any of the other stuff either.”  
  
Severus pressed a kiss into his hair, and nothing further was said as they stood there, wrapped around one another.


End file.
